


tear my face away

by goinghost



Series: mask of my own face - autistic nureyev (read series description) [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Autism, Autistic Character, Autistic Peter Nureyev, Fluff, Other, The inherent pleasure of laying on the floor, this turned out so much sappier than i'd meant it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goinghost/pseuds/goinghost
Summary: ***PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE***“Uh, Nureyev?”“Yes, dear?”“Why are you on the floor?”--Nureyev finds the perfect spot to get some work done when Juno interrupts him (not that he's opposed)
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: mask of my own face - autistic nureyev (read series description) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985986
Comments: 37
Kudos: 161





	tear my face away

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT:   
> i've debated orphaning the fics in this series for weeks now but i've decided against it to instead keep them on my profile with this disclaimer: i'm not comfortable with my characterization in this series and i feel like my approach to this headcanon has changed. i'm glad people have enjoyed them but i personally don't anymore. it's still fine to leave kudos and comments but just know there will almost certainly be no more fics posted in this series
> 
> [slaps nureyev] this baby can fit so much projection in it! 
> 
> i've been diagnosed with autism for about six years at this point and i realized i've never written autistic fic before so i am changing that! this will hopefully be part of a series of oneshots i have planned about autistic nureyev so be on the look out for more of this content from me! 
> 
> title from 'mask of my own face' by lemon demon because it's an autism AND nureyev song and i do not take constructive criticism 
> 
> no cws for this one, it's all very fluffy!

“Uh, Nureyev?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you on the floor?” 

Nureyev glanced at his partner from where he’d been splayed out on the floor of his quarters. Everywhere around him were piles of clothes, papers, notebooks, and trinkets from who knew where, but he’d managed to clear a space where he could fit the core of his body and half of his impressively long limbs in direct contact with the Carte Blanche’s scratchy carpet. 

He opened his mouth to say something quick-witted and charming when he realized he didn’t have a response to Juno’s question. Frankly, he hadn’t been expecting anyone to willingly enter his room in its current state (Juno frequently threatened to clean it for him if he didn’t, “fix it already. I can feel the mess through the door, like me and the garbage have some kind of psychic link from all the times I’ve slept in there.”) 

Nureyev gestured with his hand in the open air, as if hoping to grasp a response from the recycled oxygen supply of the ship. Eventually, he settled on, “It seemed comfortable.” 

“Really.” Juno said flatly. “Comfortable.” 

“I do hate repeating myself, love. Yes, comfortable.” 

After a moment of staring at him from his rare vantage point above Nureyev, Juno shrugged and knelt down. Contradictory to his own strategy, Juno gathered as much of the muck of his floor into his arms as he could fit and laid it across a Juno-sized space. Then he inched onto his back and made to curl himself around Nureyev’s body before he stopped. 

“Is it okay if I touch you right now?” His lady asked, concern in his eye. 

Peter had never known it to not be okay, even when he was in one of his...states, and so he pulled a euphemism from his pocket, smiled wolfishly, and said, “Why, Juno, how forward of you. At least let’s move to the bed.” 

Juno rolled his eyes, “No, not—you know what I mean, Nureyev.” 

“Yes, Juno, it’s alright.” 

Juno took that as permission to fully move his body so that he was spooning Nureyev. With a sigh, Nureyev inched backwards a bit, letting his head rest across Juno’s large chest. Juno pulled his arm around his shoulder and squeezed him close lightly. Nureyev found himself appreciating the pressure. 

“So, like...Is there something going on?” 

Nureyev’s eyes fluttered open (when had he closed them?), “Hmm?” 

“I just mean—” Juno hesitated, “ —It’s just that you’re on the floor. I feel like people don’t usually get on the floor unless something is wrong.” 

Nureyev blinked at him. Was something wrong? He tried to remember why exactly he’d been laying on the floor. What he’d told Juno was true. Laying on the floor had simply seemed like the best option at the moment. He’d been going over the schematics to the Robotic Security facility that Buddy was having them infiltrate two days from then, when he’d been struck with the urge to do _something._ Move, contort, shake, _something._ And so he’d cleared a small patch and laid as starfish-like as he was able. 

He was unsure how to communicate that to Juno, however. “Nothing is wrong, my dear, I simply needed a change of pace.” 

Juno nodded, as if that explained everything. Nureyev’s not sure how, but he would take mercy from the universe where he could get it, “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Back in Hyperion, I used to do all kinds of things to get myself to have some kind of breakthrough on a case.” He laughed softly, “I swear I must have done more bad yoga poses off my shitty couch than the moms at the studio across the street.” 

Nureyev laughed too at the image of Juno Steel, grumpy detective extraordinaire, doing a sun salutation. “You know, I once posed as a yoga instructor.” 

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. There was a gym that offered classes in the same office complex as a very important safe that I was hired to crack. It was the best way to get access to their connected roof. It was hardly a challenge,” Nureyev winked, “I’m very flexible.” 

Juno snorted, “Yeah, I believe it. Your limbs are like ¾ of your body.” 

Nureyev smiled at Juno’s response, if only because it seemed like the best way to continue the conversation. Juno wanted him to laugh with him, that was what he could glean from how they’d been talking. Nureyev was all too happy to oblige, because he wanted to laugh with Juno. It was strange. His usual analysis of conversations often resulted in him pushing aside his own feelings to try to give the other person what they expected, but that was almost never the case with Juno. In fact, he found much more often than not that he wanted nothing more than to react exactly as he could figure Juno wanted him to react. 

They stayed on the floor for a few more minutes, just silently holding and being held together. Juno’s arms were tight and weighted around Nureyev’s body and he felt...safe. It was odd. He didn’t normally feel safe, especially not in the days before a job (no matter how unnecessary the job may be to their ultimate goal). Nureyev knew he enjoyed physical pressure bearing down on him, knew the weight of a particularly heavy comforter or a bulletproof vest always comforted errant anxiety, but he’d never been able to fully relax in another person’s arms like this before. Any time he was close enough to someone to lay with them in this way, they were a mark and he could not let his guard down. 

With Juno...everything was different. He trusted Juno to hold him. He trusted the detective to squeeze him gently and keep him steady, but not restrain him. Nureyev was not trapped in Juno’s arms, as he had been with others in the past. Nureyev was home (a home he hadn’t been sure he’d ever have again). 

With a smile, he turned his head and gently kissed Juno’s collarbone. He felt Juno’s rumbling laugh go through his own chest. “Yeah, honey?” Juno asked, smiling himself. 

“I am just—” Nureyev kissed slightly higher, along Juno’s jawline, “—showing my appreciation—” he kissed Juno’s cheek, “—for a beautiful lady.” 

Juno laughed again. Oh, how Peter loved that sound. There were some noises that he couldn’t stand for one reason or another. Some of them were physically painful to even think about experiencing. Juno’s laugh was not one of those noises. In fact, Juno’s laugh evoked the exact opposite sensation, as if he were breathing it in like air. It filled his own chest until he was sure he might burst from the wonderful noise.

Juno smirked, but Nureyev could see in his eyes that he was flattered, “If this is how clingy floor Nureyev acts, we might just have to lay down here more often.” 

“Oh, dear detective, I would like nothing more.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/GHOSTZVNE) where i sometimes talk about autism but mostly i talk about penumbra and my wonderful girlfriend. i also do writing streams sometimes and they're a fun! i'll always post the link on twitter when i'm doing one so make sure to check that out! 
> 
> comments and kudos are always a delight! leave some if you're so inclined


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